Angel of Fire
by IfIt'sNotTooEarly
Summary: There have been strange disappearances going on. Children who go to Hogwarts but never come home. The Ministry aren't doing anything. So the Prime Minister takes it into his own hands. Alex Rider. Little does Alex know what lies in wait for him. Storylines from GoF. What if it wasn't Cedric Diggory whose name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Number 10**

It was yet another cold, dark and bleak night at number 10, Downing Street. However, it was politics, was it not always bleak? The day had been relatively uneventful for once, and rather boring. But the Prime Minister had never been happier about that. Things had been far too eventful as of recent months.

He was sat at his desk, working on his computer, when a small green light seemed to appear in his fireplace. That could only mean one thing. Less than 10 seconds later, the fireplace was consumed in a torrent of green flames, and within them: Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic.

The Prime Minister had only ever met Cornelius Fudge once before, at the beginning of his time in this position, at the top of the country, and he was glad of that. He knew that an appearance from this man was never going to be a good thing.

"I'm afraid I have bad news, Minister," Fudge began, forgoing any sort of niceties or small talk.

The Prime Minister swallowed deeply, as a newspaper was pulled from the inside of Fudge's long black robes and slid across his desk to settle in front of him.

He scanned it quickly with his eyes, drawn to the headline: "NUMBER 10: MISSING".

"What's happening Minister? What is this story about?" He asked, looking down at the odd, moving newspaper that was doing a rather excellent job at completely bewildering him.

"There have been some disappearances from a school. Children going but not returning," he replied, shortly.

"Well who's at fault? Surely you have some idea about it all?" He asked, hoping for some sort of an answer. He had enough to worry about without having to deal with children going missing aswell.

"You remember the mass murderer who escaped last year, Sirius Black?" He asked, looking down.

"Of course," he spat, indignantly, remembering the terrifying talking letter that had been dropped onto his desk a few years ago. His expression quickly changed, "Have you found him yet? Is it him that's been doing this?" He asked, eyes widening in hope.

"No, I highly doubt that we ever will find him, but we do suspect that it was him. I mean, with his record, who else could it be?"

"But school children? No bodies? Adults, perhaps I could understand, considering his crimes, but children? I wasn't sure that that would be his style," he remarked.

"The man's a lunatic! He's capable of anything! I'm sure you remember me telling you that when they took him away he was laughing?" Said Fudge.

"I suppose it's a possibility. What are you doing about it?" The Prime Minister asked, expectantly.

"There's nothing we can do." Fudge replied, shortly.

"Well, I must admit, that doesn't sit too well with me," he commented, annoyed at Fudge's uselessness and lack of initiative over the matter at hand.

"It's in the Wizarding world, not the muggle world, making it my problem, not yours," Fudge replied, with a bitter edge to his voice. "Besides, we've tried everything in our power to catch Black, of course, we'll continue to try."

"Of course, I'm sorry," the Prime Minister apologised, without really meaning it.

"Well, anyway, I must be going now, we'll keep your informed," said Fudge, turning back towards to fireplace and climbing in, pulling a fistful of a strange looking black powder out of his robes.

"Until next time," the Prime Minister said, forcing a smile onto his face and silently praying that there wouldn't be a next time.

And then the Minister for Magic was gone, bursting into green flames inside the fireplace.

He let out a long sigh in the absence of his counterpart, and rubbed his hands over his face in exasperation.

"Luxton?" He shouted to his secretary at her desk outside the door.

"Yes sir?" She replied, tottering into the office to face him.

"Get me MI6 on the phone."

"Of course sir, what should I ask for?" She asked, questioningly.

"Blunt, Head of Special Operations."

"Yes sir, I'll have him in five minutes," she replied, turning around and walking back out.

He could hear her on the phone talking, finding the people that he needed her to find, as always. His mind was spinning, trying to get his head round the next steps he had to take. It was to do with a school, and they needed to find out where it was that these children were going. To do that, they needed somebody on the inside.

A teacher? That had been his first instinct, which was why he had asked Luxton to ring MI6 special operations. Because if anybody could pull off an undercover mission, it would be somebody from Alan Blunt's sector. However, it would be an entirely different story now that it involved the Wizarding world.

It had only been an afterthought of his that had reminded him of the teenage spy, operating under MI6. And a brilliant idea had struck him. As much as he was against the idea, it was something that would work perfectly. And the past few missions this boy had been on had all been successful, though there may have been some bloodshed. And some minor disasters to cover up. But on the kinds of missions he'd been on, those kinds of things were inevitable, were they not?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I've got 0 update schedule or anything for this story as of yet. Unless I manage to get hugely ahead of my writing, then maybe I'll follow something more structured. For now, this one is gunna be more of a 'when it's done' kinda job, so it could be a week, it could be a year, we'll see. Enjoy, thank you for reading and R &R.**

 **Chapter 2: Alex**

Alan's POV

It was a normal, mundane Monday. Well, as mundane as it is possible for a Monday to get when you're head of MI6's special operations. I was at my desk, filing through recent crises, deciding which of my currently unallocated employees I would assign to each 'mission' so to speak.

And then, I heard the quick and consecutive tapping of high heels that could only mean one thing. Mrs Jones.

Four successive knocks rang out on my door. Clearly she'd not even bothered to speak to my secretary.

"Come in," I said, my voice coming out bored and monotonous. Good.

She opened the door swiftly. "Why have you not answered your phone?" She berated me.

"It's not my job to answer the phone that's what I have a secretary for," I said, practically rolling my eyes at her ignorance.

"Well, currently your secretary is too busy off gallivanting to answer the phone for you. They rang me instead. It was the Prime Minister Sir," she said, sternly.

"And?" I said, slightly raising my eyebrows at her, expectantly.

"He needs our help. He wouldn't tell us the _nature_ of the issue. Rather demanded the services he requires from us," she said, looking slightly apprehensive.

"Well, what does he want?"

"Rather, whom, Sir," she paused. "He wants Alex."

"Shit."

Mrs Jones' POV

The last time either Mr Blunt or I had seen Alex had not ended well. Then again, when did it ever.

We'd refused to help him due to the chance of press involvement with Damian Cray. I didn't know if he'd be willing to help us with this or not.

All that I knew as of yet was that we needed to pick him up and take him to Downing Street as soon as was possible.

Which is why I was in a car, on a rainy Monday evening on my way to visit Alex Rider. I was apprehensive. But there is a reason I had gone myself rather than Mr Blunt even on such an important issue.

In the job we are in, empathy and emotions aren't really a requirement in the job description. However, if either of us is more 'emotionally equipped' to empathise with Alex's feelings towards MI6 and convince him to join us again, it was me.

The car pulled up outside Alex's house. I picked up my black umbrella, opened the car door, and stepped out into the rain, walking swiftly up to his front door and ringing the doorbell.

I heard somebody fumbling with keys to open the door on the inside. The door swung open to Jack.

"What the hell do you want?" She asked, a look of disgust and displeasure crossing her face at the sight of me.

"I need to speak to Alex," I replied, holding my ground.

"Well you can't," she said, sternly.

"Well I have to. I'm not here because I need him. I'm here because the Prime Minister wants him." I said, hoping this would at least convince her to open the door enough to let me in out of the pouring rain.

"What?" I heard a voice call out from upstairs, which was, sure enough, Alex, peering around the bannister from the landing. Obviously he'd been listening to mine and Jack's exchange, and honestly that was rather my intention. I wanted him to hear me. I knew him, and I knew that despite his past experiences and his sheer, unadulterated hatred of MI6, he would still be curious. Despite the circumstances, the Rider's and their curiosity always got the best of them.

"May I at least come in first?" I said.

Jack glared at me once again, then looked up to Alex at the top of the stairs. He gave a slight nod towards her, to which her response was to simply sigh deeply, opening the door and stepping aside far enough to let me in the door.

I walked in past her, but stopped in the hallway, waiting for Alex to descend the stairs and hear me out. Not that I knew enough myself to fully inform him of the situation.

"So," huffed Alex, "What kind of mess does the government need me to sort out this time?" He stood in front of me.

"Honestly, Alex," I began, assuming that lying to him would only deplete his trust in us further, "I don't know. We received a call from the Prime Minister earlier this evening, it was urgent. He specifically requested your… _services_." I hesitated towards the end of my sentence in apprehension.

"Do I have a choice?" Alex said, trying to sound indignant and defiant, but coming across more defeated. Almost worn down by what had happened to him over the last year or so.

"It's out of my hands this time Alex. If you say no, I'll leave. I'm not the one who needs your help this time. But I can't guarantee that the rest of the government will. If I can guarantee anything, it's that they will do everything that they can to acquire you in order to help them."

Since she'd reluctantly let me in, Jack had stayed silent. She spoke up now, "Okay, look, Lady, you can't just keep barging in here and fucking up Alex's life. Have you not used him enough by now?" She said, angrily addressing me. She turned to Alex now, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. It's your life and they've ruined enough things for you. They weren't here to help you last time. You owe them nothing."

"I know."

"Can I at least have an answer Alex?" I asked, beginning to grow slightly impatient. The plan was to get in, get him and get back out again. But I knew this would happen. Another reason Blunt couldn't have done this.

"If meeting with him will make it easier, then fine. But I'm not agreeing to anything. I'm not doing anything right now. And you can't make me."

"Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while, but here's another one for you. The Harry Potter part of the story will probably properly come into it in a chapter or two. R &R, enjoy.**

Alex's POV

When we entered his office after being ushered in by his secretary, he was stood over by the window. Staring out of it almost pensively. It was almost comical, like he was putting on some sort of ridiculous show for us.

This whole thing was bullshit. He was the Prime Minister, he could do whatever he wanted, what did he need me for?

Oh, yeah, no, I'm MI6's 'special asset'. That's why they keep me around. Because I can do things that other agents can't. The only things that I can do that the Prime Minister can't are probably illegal. Or a death wish. Fucks sake.

The Prime Minister turned to face us, again in a dramatic way. What did he think this was, some knock off ITV drama?

"Mr Rider," he addressed me, stalking over towards us to shake my hand, "and Mrs Jones?"

"Yes sir," she replied politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you Prime Minister."

"More so you, Mrs Jones, more so you. From the little I've heard of you, you've had a rather excellent career, even if I do say so myself," he said, smiling almost smugly to himself.

"Indeed, Sir," she replied, giving nothing away. So stereotypical.

"Please, please, sit down," he said, gesturing towards the two empty chairs placed in front of his desk.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but we've not really been told much about _why_ we've been invited here tonight. As you can imagine, Alex is anxious to be told, if you will?" said Mrs Jones. I glared at her slightly, turning my head towards her a little more so. Anxious, no. Pissed off and fucked off about being dragged out of the house for another MI6 issue, yes.

"Of course, of course," he replied. His consistent repetition was making me wonder just how nervous he actually was. He was the bloody Prime Minister, why was he getting nervous about this? "I'm sure that you're both familiar with standard briefing protocol, yes?"

"Of course," Mrs Jones said, nodding her head ever so slightly as a corroborating response.

"This particular… _problem…_ is beyond sensitive. It is unlikely either of you have- or ever will- experience such a confidential issue as this in your entire careers," he told us, incredibly seriously.

I mean, I'd dealt with a lot of 'sensitive' stuff before but I'd never really had 'this' conversation.

"There have been a number of children going missing recently, from a school. This particular school is a very special school, again, unlike anything any of us in this room have ever heard of. The kind of children who attend this school are very different to what we are used to. As of yet, that's all that I can tell you. At least until you agree to help me."

I found it interesting that he used the word 'me' rather than us. I thought this was a government issue.

"We don't know where these children have gone, we have no idea who may have taken them. There's nothing that the police can do about this. There are _others_ working on the case, but these people are not under my control. I have no input and I don't know what's going on. I want to help these children. I need somebody on the inside…"

"And you thought of me?" I interrupted.

"Well, no, not initially. But on further thought- based on what I've heard of you- you sound like you'd be perfect for the job. This mission will be nowhere near as high risk as previous ones, all I want is information, I don't need you to necessarily do anything. Just observe, collect information. Once you find what we need, somebody else will take over."

"I've heard all this before," I said, sighing slightly. It was always the same spiel: 'Just information', 'You won't need to do anything', 'We'll finish it off'. It never happens like that in real life. Just in the briefing notes.

"Sorry, Sir, but from the way you're speaking, you're making it sound as though this mission isn't exactly official?" said Mrs Jones. It was the kind of sentence you could imagine being said hesitantly, but it wasn't. Her voice was steely. She worked for MI6, they're hardly law abiders.

"Yes, Mrs Jones. You'd be right about that. Technically, it isn't. There's no file, no approval from MI6. However, as far as government approval goes- you've got the highest up approval there is. Me. Of course, Mr Blunt is welcome to be involved also, but I would like to keep the number of people involved to a minimum," he replied.

"Naturally," said Mrs Jones, nonchalantly.

"So," began the Prime Minister, turning to face me fully, "What do you think Alex?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say.

I felt like I needed to make some kind of stupid pros and cons list in my head to try and help me make a decision.

Pros: No MI6 involvement which meant no lies from Blunt about the lack of danger

Cons: It's still a mission, which I'd told myself I wouldn't do again. Not after last time

Pros: The Prime Minister actually knows about it, so if I need help, he probably has the best resources to get hold of it

Cons: They were so incompetent at solving the issues themselves they had to rely on me. A child.

As much as I hated to admit it to myself, in a sick and twisted way, I kind of missed it. The adventure. The adrenaline. The danger.

I was helping kids. People my age. Not people older. I was saving them. Did that justify it? I don't know.

I think by agreeing to even come to this office, my fate had already been sealed. I was doing it, wasn't I. Of course I fucking was.

I literally knew nothing about this mission, and I knew nothing about the dangers, or even where the fuck I was going. But I'd already decided.

"Okay. I'll do it."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Finished this one rather quickly, so here I am again, enjoy.**

Alex's POV

I was sat on a train, on my way to meet Smithers at a restaurant in London. Seeing as the mission wasn't really MI6 approved, I couldn't meet him there. I still knew basically nothing about where I was going. After I met Smithers, he was to give me a letter detailing where I had to go to meet my 'informant' who was going to tell me about where I was actually going and what was actually going to happen once I got there.

I turned up at the restaurant, told them I was there to meet Derek Smithers, and was guided by a waiter to a separate room upstairs with several empty tables and one table in the corner, where he was sat.

"Alex!" He shouted, attempting to stand up from the table to greet me.

"Hi Smithers! It's been a while," I said, smiling. The man never failed to put me at least slightly at ease over an upcoming mission.

"It has indeed, shall we order some food, something to drink?" He asked, whilst the waiter was still present.

"Yeah, of course," I said, already knowing what I wanted, having visited this place before. "I'll have a lemonade and a beef burger without mayo? Thanks."

"Hmm," said Smithers, pondering the menu. "I'll have the lasagne and a lime and soda please, with a side of garlic bread too, cheers."

"I'll bring up your drinks soon," said the waiter, smiling at the two of us.

Smithers waited for the waiter to leave the room and shut the door behind him before speaking to me again, "So, how are you feeling about the latest mission?" He asked, not beating around the bush.

"I'm a little apprehensive, I mean I've not really been told anything about it, but honestly the lack of MI6 involvement in it all makes me feel better."

"Well, of course that's understandable, you've not had the best of experiences with us before. However, as much as you may be glad of minimal involvement from us, for this particular mission, my involvement is necessary. I can't tell you why yet, that's for your informant to explain to you. All of the things in this bag," he said, gesturing to the backpack underneath the table, "are things you will need. There is a manual in the bag that should explain it all to you seeing as I can't."

"Not even how to use them?" I asked, a feeling of nervousness brewing in my stomach at how much I was being left to my own devices here.

"Not even, I'm sorry Alex," he said sincerely. "Now the most important thing in this entire bag is the bottle of medicine in there. You're going to have to take it twice a day every single day, once every 12 hours. You'll understand why soon enough. The only way I can explain it is that it will _enhance_ your existing abilities."

Everything that Smithers was saying was confusing me greatly. I needed to go and meet this person.

"Now, have you said your goodbyes to Jack?" He asked me.

"Erm… Yeah," I said, reluctant to recall that event. She went totally crazy at me for accepting another mission from these people. I tried to explain to her that 'these people' had nothing to do with this mission, but she wasn't interested.

"You know that you'll be staying in a secure location for the next few days until you depart?"

"Yeah, I was told that I'd be getting some stuff to read to help me be ready and stuff?"

"Exactly. You'll be okay with it all Alex," He said, attempting to reassure me. "Now, shall we stop with the mission speak and enjoy our meal?"

As if on cue, the waiter returned with our drinks, with an assurance that our food would arrive in the next 10 minutes.

When we were finally done eating, Smithers called for the bill.

"I'll charge this to the MI6 account under a business meal, they needn't know," he said, winking at me cheekily. "Now Alex, take this bag," he said suddenly serious, passing me the backpack of gadgets. "You need to read everything in there and familiarise yourself with everything. You have a few days to do so."

"Okay," I said, taking the backpack and pulling it onto my back.

Next, he handed me a small, business card size piece of paper with an address and a time about half an hour from now printed on it.

"Memorize that address," he told me. "There is a car waiting outside to take you there, and you'll go straight there. Don't speak to anybody until you arrive. This," he said, showing me a small picture of a man, "Is who you are meeting. Only speak to him."

"Got it," I said, staring at the address on the paper: 'The Leaky Cauldron, Charing Cross Road, London, WC2H 0DT.' "Right, okay, I've got it."

"Good," said Smithers, taking the paper and setting it alight with the candle on the table nearest to us. "You need to leave first, I'll come out afterwards. You're looking for the black car, reg BD51 SMR."

"Okay, thank you again Smithers. Hopefully I'll see you after the mission."

"Goodbye Alex."

I exited the room, heading for the waiting car outside. When I saw the car I was told to get in, the driver rolled down the window to me, "Are you Alex?" He asked.

"Yeah."

"Get in."

The car pulled up at the address, with a big sign outside saying 'The Leaky Cauldron'. So I was at the right place.

"Thank you," I said to the driver, hopping out of the car and steeling myself before entering the place.

I opened the door, and as I walked in, almost everybody in the room turned to stare at me. They were all dressed so strangely, in like long robes or something. I was just in jeans and a shirt. If anybody looked weird, it was them not me.

Slowly, they all returned to whatever they were doing before I got there.

I spotted the man I was supposed to be meeting in the back corner and oh my god, he was huge. He was like a fucking giant. What the hell had I got myself into?

"Alex!" He shouted, gesturing for me to come over to him. So he obviously knew who I was.

I worked my way over to him. "Hi," I said, moving to sit in the chair opposite me.

"I'm Hagrid," he said smiling widely at me.


End file.
